(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 / Rockland / Maine / United States)

poet Edna St. Vincent Millay
#49 on top 500 poets
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The Unexplorer

There was a road ran past our house
Too lovely to explore.
I asked my mother once—she said
That if you followed where it led
It brought you to the milk-man's door.
(That's why I have not travelled more.)

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: house, mother, running

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